


The Last Turn of The Wheel, An Incomplete Account

by WhiteBlackandtheRedInbetween



Series: The World Eater [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Author has only played oblivion and skyrim, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Dark Brotherhood Questline, Experienced Author, F/F, F/M, Follower Mods - Freeform, Ill have to add tags later ig lol, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, My work is mostly on other platforms this is my first time using ao3, Oblivion Main Quest, Or so id like to think, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Violence, Post-Oblivion Crisis, Skyrim Main Quest, The Dark Brotherhood of Old (Skyrim Quest Mod), Work In Progress, if its inaccurate sorry not sorry, no I wont spend my youth doing endless research
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29853498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteBlackandtheRedInbetween/pseuds/WhiteBlackandtheRedInbetween
Summary: The Last Turn of The Wheel, An Incomplete Account by Khione Peithos.The first of a series, detailing the journey of one lonely woman, who seems to be at the axis of everything except her own will. After the events of the Oblivion Crisis (A touchy subject for our protagonist) she wakes, this time as the last dragonborn. Here she entertains the idea of starting anew, and revitalizing a world that had withered and died while she was away.When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the worldWhen the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshapedWhen the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower tremblesWhen the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower fallsWhen the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleedingThe World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.
Series: The World Eater [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194815
Collections: The World Eater





	The Last Turn of The Wheel, An Incomplete Account

The scene was calm and quiet. Grass was bending and flowing evenly, obeying the will of the cold breeze that flew past this cave entrance. The place would have been peaceful, if not boring, were it not for the multiple pikes stabbed into the ground all around the entrance, displaying many skulls of multiple creatures-- mainly humans. 

A grisly warning indeed. And it had served its function of keeping the curious and uninformed out, except for the party of bandits that had unfortunately both ignored the warning at the caverns entrance, and had not been informed of the dangers that were waiting inside. Dangers asleep, but not dead. 

They walked through the caves noisily-- despite the best attempts of their leader. He hushed them multiple times, but to no avail. His hushes were often louder than the noise they made, and he never stopped the group in order to properly get their bearings. So it's hard to feel anything but pity for these unfortunate souls, as they made no attempt to be particularly quiet in the first place.

They were unaware.

Unaware of the throat they were walking down. A throat of stone, closed up and flowing only in one direction. The air was stagnant and thick with dust. Indeed they were walking to their doom. The great heavy doors of the catacombs long shut behind them, serving as great jaws to the monster that was swallowing them.

But of course this monster is completely metaphorical. There was no monster in or of this tunnel-- no. 

In fact there wasn't even a monster waiting for them at the end, if you were to use a better definition. What was waiting for them wasn't a monster or a demon, though it could be called such. Such a label would be wrong. The sleeping entity was beyond simple definition. It-- or rather they-- were asleep at the very end of the cavern. They had hibernated undisturbed for a long time, at least a couple centuries, before the present day.

Eventually someone was going to ignore the warnings set out by previous adventurers, and eventually the entity waiting at the end of the journey would wake, no matter the attempts at stealth the intruding party made. And it was in the year 201 of the Fourth Era that it happened, and the master gears of time churned into motion.

When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world  
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped  
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles  
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls  
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding  
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.

But one must ask then (with the foresight you and I now have, dear reader):   
Who was the world eater? And who was the last dragon? 

I suppose all prophecies are inaccurate to some degree then. There's no way an account of the future can be completely true, save it comes from the mouths of the many headed dragon itself.

The bandits grabbed whatever they saw that shone. That included bottles, coins, weapons... Their noise only increased in volume with the addition of steel armor against additional luggage. 

The leader, Bjaar stopped at the head of the group, raising his hand slightly in a "halt" gesture. Begrudgingly and slowly the rest of them stopped and silenced.

And is was silence that greeted them, but not empty silence. No the silence that surrounded them and everything around them was charged. Loaded with a kind of magic that was familiar, but not entirely so-- unfamiliar enough the make one anxious. One such as Bjaar.

Beats passed, maybe even a minute, but no hint was given to the leader or his charges that there was an immediate or upcoming threat. Cautiously the leader continued forward and the rest followed, starting their racket once again.

Finally they came upon the entrance to the chapel. The ceilings soared high above them, amplifying any sound they made. This is where the bandits quieted of their own accord. They expected some kind of threat to present itself, as that was their past experience. But these caverns were different: The caves before had all had their traps deactivated, their undead slain and burned, and every door opened. Someone had to have done it all, and it probably wasn't the draugr themselves.

The silence greeted them, stronger now. Now, the whole group could feel the static charge in the air, thrumming a deep sound they couldn't quite hear, but could feel in their lungs and their hearts. Cautiously the leader crept forward, looking for either a threat or a treasure. 

He found just that, a collection of weapons, ranging from the strange to the legendary. A set of black leathers, designed for stealth rested atop a table to the right of the far wall. Piles of gold, jewelry, and gleaming baubles shone all throughout to room.

With nothing guarding it, it seemed. 

The bandits, abandoning caution walked inside, eyes passing over what wasn't shining...

Passing over the humble stone coffin, placed in the center of the far wall, its top angled upwards.

"I can't believe no one came inside!"

"Well usually people steer clear of anything particularly dangerous-- at least anything that doesn't show immediate value."

"I found a weird mirror!"

"This is going to make us kings-- hell, it might even be enough to buy enough support for the stormcloaks, enough for them to finally win this bloody war and let us all have some peace."

Minutes pass and the group begins to bring the items with to most value to the center of the room, to distinguish what will be taken first. 

"Three of us and I will go out and grab a wagon, while the rest of you stay here and keep anyone out. We will have to smuggle everything out and be very very careful. We can't have anyone knowing of this place."

When Bjarr started counting heads for the split was when they all noticed, one of them was missing. Specifically their archer, was nowhere to be found. 

"Arn?" Bjaar called out. Silence responded, Notably empty. The brassy thrum of the room had vanished.

A sucking breath cut through the quiet, and when the bandits turned their attention to it, they were met with a disgusting sight.

A giant humanoid, no less than eight feet towered above its victim. The archer had been dropped on the ground as soon as he was seen by his friends. He still was trying to breathe, making grotesque sucking sounds and flailing in confusion. 

The entity unfurled themselves, so that they were no longer facing the floor, but their company. Radiant pink eyes met the stunned bandits, gleaming strangely in the dim light. Pallid skin was the second and final clue to the kind of threat they were faced with. They assumed a vampire, and were right, at least to some extent. However I said so before, that is a poor definition for our protagonist.

The rest of the bandits soon joined their accomplice on the stone floor, harmonizing with their own loud struggling. The 'vampire' stepped around the many to meet the one bandit that was crawling-- in the wrong direction. No doubt because he was disoriented. Quietly the vampire knelt down to the survivor and gently turned him back over onto his back, ice-like hands ghosting over the fur armor. It was the leader, the one who had been the most cautious and likely "Bjaar".

"Ironic," They whispered, half laughing. And indeed it was ironic, for we now know that the vampires long dead brother-- cruel and callous-- was also named Bjaar. I would think it brought them satisfaction to see a replica of their distant enemy choking on nothing. 

Though the vampire knew the habits of the Nordic people, and knew that Bjaar would either say something crass or spit his blood in their face. So, before the bandit had such a chance, his head was sundered from his body, and silence reigned again.


End file.
